


For a Favor Not Fleeting

by elistaire



Category: Highlander: The Raven, Highlander: The Series
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Community: hl_shortcuts, Gen, M/M, Methos as teacher, Nick as student, Quickening, Richie as Guardian Angel, Teaching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 16:22:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/408489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elistaire/pseuds/elistaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick is dreaming, and in that dream Richie asks him for a favor.  Go to Seacouver, find a man called Adam Pierson, and get him to teach the mysterious diamond rope tie. </p><p>In his Immortal nascence and still full to the brim with bitter anger, Nick decides to grant the favor.  His teacher isn't at all what he expects, there's a lot of take-out for dinner, and the couch he ends up sleeping on at the loft is as unyielding as stone.  But somehow, along the way, the favor Nick does for a dream-Richie turns out to be one that has repercussions for a long, long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For a Favor Not Fleeting

**Author's Note:**

  * For [idontlikegravy (subcircus)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/subcircus/gifts).



> This is really the story of Methos teaching Nick. The Methos/Richie pairing is off-screen and non-explicit. The story is set after Richie's canon death. The story is gen, with slash embedded in the fabric of the plot.

Nick was dreaming. 

He was sitting down at an expensive restaurant, linen napkins and polished silverware gleaming on the table, but no one else was there. Everything was poised, expectant, as if the customers and servers would step into the room at any moment, but for the moment, Nick was alone in the silence. 

Then he heard voices. He looked up. 

Two men were standing in the entryway. The shorter of the two was dressed in a tuxedo, with a top hat and a white tipped cane, looking for all the world as if he’d just stepped out of a black and white movie. He took off his coat and draped it on a nearby chair. With practiced movements, he put his hat and cane down alongside. When he moved forward, Nick could see that the man was even wearing spats. The man spotted him and gave a big smile and a wave. Then he turned to speak softly with the second man. 

The other man was wearing dark jeans and a black leather jacket. He looked scruffy, but reputable, as if he were quite hard-shelled, but still had that interior softness. Nick would have guessed that he wasn’t yet legal to drink, either. His hair was shorn short enough that just a hint of curl came through. Everything about him made Nick think that it was a tough kid trying to make good, and Nick tended to trust his instincts on this sort of thing. 

“Okay, this is it. Now, stay calm, and don’t bungle it,” said the man in the tuxedo. “Good luck, my boy.”

“No problem,” said the kid. 

Nick wondered if they were related. They both had the same friendly blue eyes and although the older man wore his hair quite a bit longer, they both had a similar shade of dirty blond. Their facial features were completely distinct, but there was already an easy familiarity between them. The nattily dressed one was old enough to be the second man’s father.

The younger man came forward and motioned to the chair across from Nick. “Mind if I sit?”

“It’s a free country,” Nick said. 

“Sure it is,” the man agreed. He held out his hand. “Richie Ryan. Pleased to meet you. Nick Wolfe, right?”

Nick shook his hand. “Do I know you?”

Richie shrugged easily, like water sliding off a duck’s back. “We have mutual friends.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. That sort of phrase seemed to go along with certain _types_ of people. “Would that be a tall, thin lady about a thousand years old?” he asked. 

Richie grinned. “Amanda,” he said. “Now that’s a real class act, you know what I mean?”

“I know Amanda’s act,” Nick said dryly. He was still working on his issues where she was concerned. She gave him that slow, burning desire deep in his gut, and then she’d do or say something that was like a whack to the head and he’d have a migraine for a week. 

“Don’t we all,” Richie said, but it was on an appreciative sigh. “But she’s not why I’m here. Actually, I needed to ask you for a favor.”

“A favor?” Nick repeated, suddenly curious as well as wary. “What sort of favor?”

“A really, really big favor. And I don’t have any way to pay you back.”

Nick gave a short barking laugh. “You’re kidding?”

Richie just looked at him with those big baby blues and Nick felt himself soften a little. “At least just hear me out.”

“Okay, fine.”

“I want you to go and learn a specific, special technique. It’s called the diamond rope tie. It’s part of the Japanese art of rope restraint. Hojojutsu. You can learn more if you want. But I really need you to learn that one.”

Nick laughed. “I’m not sure how my learning something is actually a favor, but that’s not going to be easy.” He shook his head. “I’ve heard of that martial art, kid. It’s a dying breed. And there’s a lot of secrecy around it.”

“Yeah, but I know someone who’ll teach it to you.” Richie leaned forward in his chair. “And the move you need to learn isn’t a big secret, it’s one of the beginner moves. I just need you to be really, really good at it.”

“Why?”

Richie’s expression was carefully blank. “I can’t tell you that. It’d be against the rules.”

“What rules would those be?” Nick asked. He really didn’t like it when things went all squirrelly like this.

“So do we have a deal?” Richie asked, ignoring Nick’s question. 

“We can’t have a deal if its one sided and you can’t pay up,” Nick said. 

Richie flashed him a brilliant smile. “Yeah, but you’re one of the good guys. And this is for a good cause. Besides, its win-win for you. You could do with a few more skills.” Richie moved his hands through the air as if swishing with swords, and then he actually made the sound-effects noise. 

Nick lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve got to be joking.”

“C’mon. Do a guy a favor?” 

Nick looked at his earnest expression and groaned. He was going to do this. He was going to prance down the garden path for some wet-behind-the-ears golden-haired kid who’d just asked him for a pretty-as-you-please favor. Nick decided he was the biggest sucker who’d ever been born. 

“Yes!” Richie said, with a little elbow-shucking arm movement. “Thank you, Nick. You won’t regret this. I think you’ll be glad you did it!”

“Okay, fine, whatever. Just tell me the name of the guy I need to find who’ll teach me.”

“His name is Adam Pierson. You can find him in Seacouver.”

The guy in the tuxedo came over to the table. “Time’s up, Richie.”

“Thanks, Fitz,” Richie said, looking up. He flashed a grateful look at Nick. “Thank you. And don’t forget.”

Fitz put his hand on Richie’s shoulder and Richie stood. With a practiced bow, Fitz caught Nick’s attention. “And now back to your regularly scheduled dream.”

A moment later, the two of them were gone in the crowd of the restaurant and Nick was being served a big bowl of squid, still alive and squirming. “Waiter,” he said. “There’s a fly in my squid.”

***~***

 

When Nick woke up, he had a headache and he felt queasy. He’d actually dreamed he’d eaten squid. 

The headache got the double aspirin treatment and Nick started to feel better. He walked out to his kitchen and started the coffee maker. Then he grabbed a spare pen and a pad of paper and, as the coffee brewed, he wrote down what he remembered. 

Adam Pierson. Seacouver. Hojojutsu. Diamond rope tie. 

It seemed pretty specific, actually. 

Nick called Bert Myers. 

“Yeah. I gotta go out of town for a while, track down some stuff I’m working on.”

“You need help?” Bert asked, because Bert was a nosy bastard, not because he actually liked to help. 

“Not yet. I’ll call you if I’m in over my head,” Nick said, with absolutely no intention of calling Bert. This was Immortal business. He remembered the kid in his dream making the swishy sword moves. “Later, Bert.” He hung up.

Nick didn’t really go in for prophetic dreaming, but it had been disturbingly specific. He’d certainly seen odder things. And given that his life span was now going to possibly be counted in centuries rather than decades, Nick had nothing better to do with his time than hunt down a dream. Besides, he’d said he’d do the kid the favor, and Nick kept his promises. 

***~***

The drive to Seacouver took two days, but it was good down time. The long miles of road allowed Nick to think hard about things, gave him time for introspection. 

He hadn’t seen Amanda since he’d walked away from her after she unceremoniously shot him in the warehouse, triggering his Immortality. Nick still couldn’t forgive her for that, which he figured was probably unfair, but he didn’t care. Nick had believed that someday he might have actually earned the brass ring—he had wanted a family, a house, the two car garage, the whole shebang. Now he wouldn’t ever have a son to teach the finer points of the pick-and-roll or what it felt like to make a double play from left field. All his dreams of eating hotdogs in the stands while his kid played and being proud while attending graduation had been dashed. Dissolved. Destroyed. It wasn’t Amanda’s fault, really, but oh, Nick blamed her for it all. He blamed her with a deep, abiding gut-reaction that never seemed to lessen.

Of course, just because he hadn’t seen Amanda didn’t mean that she wasn’t keeping tabs on him. 

Within the week of his returning home and trying to find the remainder of all the pieces that had been thoroughly gutted, an Immortal woman had shown up on his doorstep. Moana. No last name.

He’d almost shot her, even though she’d knocked and announced herself and her intentions. She’d been grim upon noticing the calm panic that had settled over him at her appearance. He knew how to fight, with fists and guns, but not with steel. 

“I’m not here for your head,” she’d told him as she stood on his threshold. “I owe Amanda several favors, and she called them in. One month, and I’ll at least teach you the basics of defending yourself. After that, you’ll have to find your own teacher.”

He had reluctantly agreed. He’d needed the training, and at least it wasn’t Amanda. 

Moana was taller than Amanda, almost as tall as Nick himself. She was built more broadly, with bigger hands, and heavier muscles. She wouldn’t ever get away with the demure fashions that Amanda favored, but Nick admired the way she moved through the world. Practical, and not giving a shit what anyone else thought. She dressed in jeans and men’s button-down flannel shirts, wearing tan-colored construction boots, and moving like a dancer, like a boxer. 

She had been an excellent choice to train him, Nick had to reluctantly admit. Her height and breadth matched his enough that Nick didn’t have any physical advantage there, and he _had_ to learn to deal with that. She was graceful and calm, and took none of his shit, and Nick had to admit, she was a woman. He didn’t think he’d have lasted five minutes with a male teacher. 

Something in him just always wanted to start fights, to egg on confrontation. With men, even ones that were his friends, there was always this undercurrent of competition for Nick. He had no idea what he needed to prove, but he felt like he was always being looked at and found wanting, and the little ball of rage that he kept feeding in the center of his chest would pulse and his hackles would raise, like a guard dog growling at every shadow. Becoming Immortal had just exacerbated this tendency in him. Nick knew this, but it didn’t matter. It was part of him, part of who he was. 

“You need to get your reactions under control,” Moana had told him one night as she’d taught him how to properly care for his sword. She’d calmly been inspecting the edges of her own. “Your first response is always sarcasm, defensiveness, and challenge. Useful tools sometimes, but not always the tools you need to use.”

“Seems to have worked out fine so far,” Nick had said back.

Moana had smiled at him. “You don’t have to change overnight. Just think about it for a decade or so.”

Nick had snorted and averted his eyes. He hated that he suddenly needed to start thinking about his future in those terms. It used to be he’d take a night or a weekend to make decisions, now he could procrastinate for years about something. Years. Nick tightened his hands into fists. 

“You need to release some of that stress before you care for your weapon, or you’ll end up doing it poorly.”

And, of course, Moana was right. Nick hoped the month would go a lot faster. He really didn’t need to have his entire psyche criticized and found wanting. 

***~***

Nick had used a few of his contacts to track down Adam Pierson, so he had a fairly good idea where he could locate him. 

The trouble was, of course, that entering the sphere of another Immortal always caused friction. The problem was intent. How would Adam know that Nick wouldn’t go for his head? How could Nick know that Adam wouldn’t immediately assume a confrontation and try to attack?

Nick groaned in frustration as he stared up at the building where Adam was purported to live. He could arrange a chance meeting, of course. Plead youth, and won’t you train me? Or he could go in directly. Say he’d heard of him and wanted some training. Buy him a beer? Bring along a pizza? He could always rely on the complete truth. He was here because of a dream that felt entirely specific and real, and stood out sharply instead of fuzzing away like most dreams. 

Nick peered up at the building again and then did a sweep of the street and surrounding area. No one was on the street and everything seemed quiet. He hoped he was far enough away that Adam couldn’t sense him. Nick debated turning on his truck and driving away. He could take the afternoon to think it over. 

A sudden rushing in his head and then a series of three quick knocks on his window nearly jolted Nick into the passenger side of the truck. 

He turned his head and there was a man standing next to him. He had dark hair and serious eyes. Nick rolled down the window. 

“Are you going to sit here in the street all day, or do you want to come in and talk with me?” the man asked. His attention wandered to the street. “You’ve been down here for five hours. I imagine you at least need to use the restroom.”

“Uh, sure,” Nick managed. “Thanks.” He rolled his window back up and then got out of his truck. He locked the doors and followed the man toward the building. “Adam, right?” he asked, just to be sure. 

“That’s me. Most of the time,” Adam said and turned his head to give Nick a quick flash of a grin. “And you are?”

“Nick Wolfe.”

Adam tilted his head to the side and a considering look flashed across his features. “Amanda’s friend?” he asked, and Nick felt a flush of anger. Who the hell was Adam and how the fuck did he know Amanda? Or that he and Amanda had known each other? 

“You know Amanda?” Nick ground out, trying not to let his anger get the better of him. 

“We’re old friends,” Adam said, and Nick wished he had a nickel for every time he heard another Immortal say that. Adam opened the door to the building and Nick could see that it was a workout area. He led him across the wood floor to an elevator. 

“What is this place?” Nick asked. 

“An old dojo. No longer open. The current owner is away for an unforeseen amount of time, and I’m house-sitting for a while. There’s an apartment on the third floor.”

Nick followed Adam into the elevator and Adam pulled down the grate. “Amanda,” he said, getting back to the topic. 

“She didn’t send you,” Adam said. “She isn’t obtuse enough to send someone to me without at least a warning. So the question is, who did send you?”

“That’s a long story. I’d rather wait to talk about it,” Nick said. “How did you know that Amanda and I were acquainted?”

Adam laughed. “You are new, aren’t you?” Adam considered him, smirking. “Freshly minted Immortal, and green behind the ears.”

“You didn’t answer the question,” Nick said, and felt his jaw setting tight. 

“When you tell me who sent you, I’ll tell you how I know about you and Amanda.”

Nick glared at Adam and considered beating the information out of him. 

The lift reached the third floor and Adam lifted the grate. “Home sweet home,” he said. “At least for the time being. Make yourself comfortable.”

Adam turned to the right and started puttering in the kitchen. Nick walked slowly into the apartment. It was just one big room, with an attached bathroom and a closet. The bed was against one wall, and the couch and some chairs were arranged to form a living room-like area. It was spare and comfortable. Every item in it was well thought out and either beautiful, useful, or both. “A friend lets you stay here?” he asked, not quite believing it. 

“For the time being.” Adam pointed with a coffee scoop. “Bathroom is over there.”

Nick let himself in to the bathroom, took care of five hours of waiting, and then snooped through the bathroom shelves. Nothing feminine stood out. This apartment was obviously owned by a man, although a man of good taste and deep pockets. 

Nick came out of the bathroom and stood behind the couch, hands on his hips. He watched Adam finish loading the coffee maker. 

“I usually prefer beer,” Adam said, “but since we’re two Immortals who have never met before, coffee is probably a better choice. When we get to know each other, we can start drinking.”

“Sure,” Nick said, keeping his tone bland. 

Adam gestured to the couch, and then took a seat in the chair opposite. “So. I’m listening. Why were you performing surveillance on me? Or were you looking for someone else?”

Nick didn’t sit down, but he did lean against the arm of the couch. “No. I was looking for you. I was told to come and ask you to train me in the art of Hojojutsu. Specifically, the diamond rope tie.”

Adam’s eyebrows went up. “Curious,” he said. “That’s a rather particular art. And someone has a surprisingly optimistic viewpoint of my agreeing to teach. I haven’t taken on a student in a long time. I don’t intend to start.”

Nick frowned. That was just great. He’d driven for two days, found a way to meet the intended Immortal without having to duel to the death, and the guy was just going to dismiss him because he didn’t take on students anymore. “Bull--” Nick started to say, about to argue, when he saw a photograph in a frame, on a little end table near the window. “That’s him,” he said. He stood and went over to the table and picked up the photo. “This is the guy. Richie. He’s the one who told me to find you.”

Nick frowned at the photo. Richie and Adam were both in the photo, so it had obviously been taken by someone else—the owner of the dojo and apartment, probably—and they were smiling. It was a close-up, so he could only see their expressions, and the background was out of focus. 

Adam took the photo from him, staring at it for a long moment, and then put it back down. “And when did Richie tell you to come find me, exactly?”

Nick grunted a response and moved away again. 

“No, really, Mr. Wolfe,” Adam said, his tone turned to ice. His expression had grown hard. “You’ve been Immortal for less than six months. Richie has been dead for nearly three years. He certainly didn’t tell you to find me _after_ you became Immortal, so it must have been before. Why would he do that? And why would you wait so long?” Adam stared at him with an eerie calm that Nick found fascinating and frightening. This was what Moana had spoken about. The opposite of how Nick reacted. Adam was giving off deadly vibes, a coiled tension that made Nick think he was dealing with a snake poised to strike, just biding its time, all potential energy building and growing. Yet, there was an incredible stillness there, where Nick tended toward a furious energy.

Nick shook his head. “You won’t believe me. But I saw him in a dream.”

Adam’s expression didn’t change, but Nick could feel the danger ratchet down several notches. “A dream? Continue.”

“I was in a restaurant and it was empty, and he same in with another man.” Nick frowned. He had heard the man’s name, hadn’t he? For a moment he struggled to recall. “Fitz, he called him. Richie and Fitz.”

Adam’s hard expression faded away and he started to look interested. “Do tell. Please.”

“Richie came over to me and he asked me for a favor. To find you and to learn the diamond rope tie. Just that. He told me I could find you here in Seacouver. He told me your name. Then Fitz said they had to go, and suddenly that was the end. I started dreaming other things. But when I woke up, it was as if that part of the dream was crystallized in my memory. Completely vivid.” Nick stopped and watched Adam’s reaction. 

Adam considered Nick’s story. “When was this?”

“Three nights ago. Took me a while to get here.”

“Interesting.” Adam picked up the photo again, of himself and Richie, and the long-ago moment when they were smiling. 

“You believe me,” Nick said, astonished. 

“Of course,” Adam said. He looked sad, and resigned. “I suppose since Richie has requested that I teach you the diamond rope tie, then we’d better get started.” Adam put the photo back. “You can have the couch, or the other half of the bed. Your choice. We’ll start this evening.” He paused, as if to consider his next words, and then pushed forward. “I am not a pleasant teacher, Mr. Wolfe. I am short tempered and harsh. I don’t teach for a reason.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a lousy student,” Nick said. 

“Then we should get along famously,” Adam said. 

***~***

Nick was exhausted, and tomorrow he was going to be very, very sore. 

Adam was _nothing_ like Moana, and Nick wished he had appreciated Moana’s quiet corrections and _explanations_ more. Adam’s explanations were like riddles. He didn’t want to just tell Nick anything, everything was posed as a question, as if Nick couldn’t possibly be bright enough to figure things out, but that Adam expected to make Nick stretch and stretch until he could understand it. 

And that was just Adam testing Nick to find out what he already knew and what he didn’t. 

“We’ll have to undo some of what you’ve learned,” Adam had told him, and Nick had clenched his teeth. He did not like the insinuation that Moana had not taught him well.  
“You’ve got too much mortal in you still,” Adam had said. “The way you decide to attack or take hits, it is all still as if you need to worry about permanent damage. Amanda certainly didn’t teach you anything, you don’t have her style. You have the basics, but nothing else. Who was your teacher?”

“She was a friend of Amanda’s,” Nick had said, reluctant to give up Moana’s name. It was difficult to know when Immortals were allies or enemies. If Adam held a grudge against Moana, Nick could be out on his ear. “She owed Amanda a favor, so she came for a month, and then left.”

“A month?” Adam had laughed. “You’re certainly not anyone’s favorite, are you? Still, she did an amazing job with you for only a month.”

Nick’s anger had been a bit soothed by that. Moana had offered to bring him back with her. She’d taken leave from work—Nick still found it odd that some Immortals meshed their lives in so completely with everyone else—and couldn’t be away longer. But she had offered. Nick just hadn’t been able to take the offer, not yet. He was still too wounded, too raw. Moana had left the invitation open to him, if he managed to keep his head. 

Now, Nick thought, after Adam’s thorough beating, he was regretting that decision. Moana had gone too easy on him, and Nick had thought he could take on another Immortal and win. Adam was so far beyond his league that Nick couldn’t even fathom how much training it had taken to get that way. If Nick had been forced to fight Adam, he had no doubt whose head would have rolled. 

Adam put blankets and pillows down on the couch. “I’ve slept on this couch,” he said. “It turns into a lump of stone around three in the morning.”

“I’ll be fine,” Nick said. He was too tired to even think much about it. Probably he was going to sleep hard all the way through until morning. 

“The offer for the other half of the bed is still on the table,” Adam said. “I promise not to sully your honor in the middle of the night.”

“As if,” Nick replied. He spread out the blanket and put the pillows on one end of the couch. Tomorrow, he would organize his things more thoroughly. And get some food into the fridge. Adam had stocked it with beer and take-out leftovers. Nick was unable to quite reconcile the lean, fighting figure with the poor food choices, but it didn’t really matter. 

As he drifted off to sleep, Nick realized that Adam had said he’d tell him how he knew about Nick and Amanda when Nick told him about Richie. Nick felt entirely too sleep-heavy to even start that conversation. He’d do it in the morning, and then he would press for answers until he got them. 

***~***

“First, you must learn to be comfortable with the rope,” Adam said. He had a length of thin rope, more like string really, in his hands. There were two knots at one end, and one of those knots formed a loop. With quick, smooth movements, he wrapped it in a figure-eight pattern between his thumb and pinkie finger, then the end went around the bundle. He loosened it from his hand and held it up. Then he tugged at the loose end with the two knots and it came freely out, flowing like a stream of water at the lightest pressure. “In the past, the warriors kept these in their sleeves,” Adam said. “Bundled and ready to be used. It would take only a moment to pull one out and then tie up their captive.”

Nick tried to imitate Adam’s demonstration and came away with jumbled rope. 

Adam smiled and showed him again, more slowly. “Once you get this, I want you to do it one hundred times. Today. Tomorrow. Every day you’re here. It needs to be like second nature to you. Something you can do without even thinking about it.”

“Okay,” Nick said. It sounded like an excessive waste of time to him, because really, after doing a hundred times once, he surely would have it down, but Adam was the one teaching here, so he would go along with it. “You didn’t answer my question yesterday,” Nick said. 

“Which question would that be?” Adam asked as he watched Nick go through the motions of winding the rope around his hand. 

“How you knew that Amanda and I were acquaintances.”

“Ah.” Adam took another length of rope and started to practice his own winding. He was twice as fast as Nick, and Nick spent a moment to admire his deftness. Perhaps he did need to practice this one hundred times a day, after all. 

“And?” Nick pressed. 

“You won’t like the answer.”

Nick stopped what he was doing and narrowed his eyes. “I still want to know.”

“Of course,” Adam said smoothly. “I believe you learned about Watchers at some point.” He turned his wrist over and Nick could just make out the faint, dotted form of a blue-green tattoo. 

Nick threw down the rope. “What the hell!”

Adam shrugged his shoulders. “I was a Watcher for a little while. Not anymore. It’s been harder to get rid of the tattoo than I thought, but I’ll have it gone at some point.”

Nick’s mind jumped around, making connections, pulling up old questions. “You know Dawson.”

“Yes. Joe and I are friends.” Adam picked up Nick’s rope and held it out to him. “You still have ninety-seven to go.”

“He told you what happened.”

“Amanda mentioned you, too. The last time I saw her. Ninety-seven.” He offered the rope again.

Nick glared at Adam and stomped away. He kicked the lockers in the locker room and looked around for more things to hit. 

Adam came into the locker room. “I know you and Joe didn’t get along, and that you’re not very happy with Amanda at the moment. I understand all that. Becoming Immortal is a big transition. But kicking the lockers isn’t especially useful.”

“I know that!” Nick kicked a locker again anyway, leaving a big dent. He really didn’t care that the lockers belonged to Adam’s friend. 

“You still have ninety-seven more to go, when you’re done ruining things,” Adam said placid as a lake at dawn, and then left him. 

Nick sat down on the bench and tried to get his breathing under control. This Watcher and Immortal business was so _inbred_. The connections arcing between everyone were thick and deep, and how could they not see how disgusting it was that they were all in bed with each other, complicit in death and hate, and everything immoral and wrong? Amanda knew Adam and Joe, and they all knew each other, and Nick didn’t have a score card. He felt like he was blind and groping in the dark. 

What the hell was he doing here anyway? 

He’d had one lousy dream and followed it halfway across the country, to one smart-aleck that had more secrets than the government, and he was being _played_. Adam hadn’t even wanted to take him on. It had only been because—

Nick stopped short. There was something there that he’d missed. 

Nick rewound the dream in his head. He thought about Adam knocking on the window of his truck. The photo on the end table. 

He strode back out into the main area of the dojo. “What aren’t you telling me?” he demanded. 

Adam looked up, a sly smile on his face. “I’m pretty sure that since you aren’t my student at the moment, that I don’t owe you any answers.”

“Not your student?”

Adam held out the rope. “Ninety-seven more. Either you are or you aren’t learning here.”

Nick grabbed the rope out of his hands and started winding. “Now. Answers.”

“Even though you are my student again, anything I would care to share with you would be out of the generosity of my heart. I don’t understand why you expect that everyone must reveal themselves to you.” 

Nick glared at him and missed a loop around his thumb, the rope got tangled up and he had to start again. 

Adam sighed. “I’m a lot older than you. It’s terribly difficult to know exactly what it is that has set you off. It’d take a long time to tell you all my secrets. Perhaps you’d enlighten me about which ones you mean, exactly?”

“You know,” Nick said, voice low. “Why did you agree to this? When I told you it was Richie. You said he was dead. How did he die? And what about the other man? Is he real too?”

“So that’s what you want to know,” Adam said. “Hugh Fitzcairn. Also Immortal, but he was killed in a Challenge. He seems to be prone to not exactly _staying_ gone, though. This isn’t the first time I’ve heard of him coming back as an angel inside a dream.”

“Not the first time,” Nick echoed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Not at all. Apparently Fitz has license to muck around with the hearts, souls, and minds of those he knew when he was alive.”

“Fucking hell,” Nick said. He paused in his rope looping, then when Adam gave him a pointed look, started up again. “And Richie?”

“From what you say, it appears Richie has somehow teamed up with Fitz and now they’re both charging around tilting at our dreams, telling us what to do.”

“I don’t know either of them,” Nick said. 

“They both knew Amanda, and they both knew me.” Adam kept his eyes steady on the rope he was winding around his hand. “Close enough, probably, to include you in whatever it is they’re trying to affect.”

Nick narrowed his eyes. Adam was really slick, but there was just the slightest hesitation there. There was still something Adam wasn’t telling him. “And?”

“And what?”

Nick just raised an eyebrow, completed a perfect loop of rope and held it out to Adam. Adam smiled and tugged on the end with the knots and the rope slid out smoothly, perfectly, like a mountain stream down a rock face, until only the other end was still in Nick’s hand. 

“Much better. You still have seventy-four of them to do.”

“And you haven’t told me whatever it is you’re holding back,” Nick replied. 

“I find myself a bit envious of your dream,” Adam said slowly. “Richie and I were lovers, for a short time, when he was still alive. I miss him. Hearing that he’s shown up in your head, sent you to me, and then scuttled off without a word edgewise, well, it leaves me a bit…overdone.”

Nick stared. “You’re pulling my leg.”

“No.”

Nick sat back and mulled over that information. He wasn’t sure exactly what to think about the situation. 

“Seventy-four,” Adam said. 

“Seventy-three,” Nick said.

Adam shook his head. “I should never have even gone down to meet you.”

***~***

Nick’s arms were sore that night, from the workout, as he stared down at the couch. His back was also aching, from the impromptu sleeping arrangements. 

Adam had been right about the couch. It was hell on the body. Nick had slept all the previous night like a log because he’d been exhausted, and he was again. But just sleeping heavily wasn’t a way to avoid waking up with a crick in his back and a kink in his neck. He eyed the other side of the bed. 

Adam was still puttering in the bathroom, and Nick needed to decide quickly what he wanted. 

Nick flexed his fingers and stretched his arms. One hundred rope windings. There were one hundred more waiting for him tomorrow. On top of that, Adam had him doing some martial art rolls and flips. He’d flung himself around on a mat for the better part of two hours. Just about every muscle in his body was protesting. 

Nick grabbed the pillows and blankets and hauled them over to the bed. He could sleep on top of the covers and under his blankets. 

Adam came out of the bathroom. He paused to stare at the bed, smile faintly, and then click off the lights. He crawled into bed and eased himself under the covers. “See you in the morning,” he said. 

“Yeah. Good night,” Nick said. 

***~***

Day three of his new torture regiment consisted of, finally, learning the technique he’d come to learn. 

“Other than the two knots on the end, there are no knots in this technique,” Adam said. He’d looped the rope through itself and slipped it on Nick’s wrist, then wrenched his arm behind his back. Suddenly the rope was over his shoulder, wrapped around him, across his throat—threatening to pressure in against his windpipe—and back over his shoulder. Adam was tugging on the rope behind him and Nick had no choice but to obey, the control the rope yielded over him was incredible. 

“It’s called the diamond rope tie because if you could see yourself from the back, you would see that the crisscrossing of the line creates a diamond pattern.” 

“Yes, yes,” Nick said, suddenly desperate to get out of the hold. He couldn’t even _move_. Everything he did seemed to make it tighter, squeeze off his air. He tried to lift his wrist higher, but Adam just took up the slack. 

“Tut, tut,” Adam said. “Not so much a diamond shape now. You’re very flexible for having such muscle in your arms.”

“Thanks,” Nick said and tried not to even move a muscle. “Could you--”

“Done,” Adam said, and quickly reversed the sequence of wraps until he had the rope back in his hand again. 

Nick rubbed at his throat. “That’s impressive,” he said.

“It is. Traditionally, when the prisoners were brought somewhere, the samurai would loosen the ropes or change the tie, just before handing him over. To protect the secret knowledge of the ties. The one I just demonstrated is a basic tie, not really a secret one. But there are others.”

Nick rubbed at his wrist. There was an indentation in his skin where the rope had constricted around him. He suddenly felt as if the world had opened up around him. How had he never even known this existed before? “I need to learn this,” he said. “I have to know this.”

Adam handed him the rope. “One hundred times,” he said, and for once, Nick sat down and did as he was told. 

***~***

Adam had ordered pizza, which was good because Nick’s wrists and arms and back all throbbed from overuse and grueling punishment. He couldn’t have even tried to clench a fork. 

“Why doesn’t my healing take care of this?” he asked as he tried to keep his grip on the crust of a piece of pizza. 

“It’s not really the same sort of injury. If it healed this, you wouldn’t be able to train. You’d be stuck at whatever you were when you first died. Good for some of us. Those of us who were Olympic fencing medalists at the moment we died,” Adam said with a cheeky grin. “Not so good for those of us who had desk jobs.”

“So my body just keeps on working like it always did. I can build muscle. I can run harder and faster and longer.”

“Yup.” Adam nibbled on a leftover crust. “You can learn muscle memory. Which is what I’m trying to give you. The art of tying—you can know it on a mental level, and it would take time. You have to have it happen with your hands and your body before you even realize you’ve done it. It has to be as automatic as breathing. More automatic.”

Nick sipped at his beer. “When did you learn this?”

Adam looked to the ceiling, thoughtful, as if he were counting in his head. “It was a while ago. I’d have to check my journals to be sure. Not until well into the nineteenth century. I was too foreign to trust, even if I did learn the language almost like a native. But I knew it existed before that. I’d picked up a few things here and there from men who had traveled out of the country.”

“How many other Immortals use this?”

Adam snorted. “Do I look like I initiate an Immortal census every ten years?”

Nick laughed. “Okay, okay. That was a dumb question. I admit it.”

Adam yawned and stretched. “Bedtime, I think.” He made his way to the bathroom and closed the door. 

Nick shoved the last of the pizza in his mouth and, chewing, put the box in the trash and the empty beer bottles into the recycling bin. Then he shucked his clothes down to his underwear and crawled into bed. 

Adam came out of the bathroom, clicked off the light, and slid in on the other side of the bed. 

“How long do you think this training is going to take?” Nick asked into the darkness. He could hear Adam shift around, and felt the movement in the bed. 

“Don’t know. You’re a quick learner, but to do this right, it has to be more than just learned.”

“It has to be muscle memory. Ingrained,” Nick supplied, repeating the earlier conversation. 

“Exactly,” Adam said. “Maybe a few weeks. Or months. Really, it’d be years to learn it well. An entire lifetime, and more, to learn the majority of it.”

“Richie wanted me to learn the one technique. I need that one first.” Nick wasn’t sure he was ready to dedicate a lifetime to the learning of rope tricks. 

“Then you’re already halfway there. Now hush so I can sleep, please.”

***~***

“Today I’m going to teach you to begin to put it all together,” Adam said. He was leaning against the wall. “Stay where you are. I’ll demonstrate.”

Nick was in the middle of the room. He eyed Adam warily. So far he hadn’t liked being on the receiving end of any of the demonstrations. It always ended up with rope marks on his skin and a deep fear of being throttled to death. 

Adam burst from the wall. His hand flicked to his sleeve and the rope came out. Then Adam was on him, catching his arm behind him, the rope already around his wrist before Nick could move, and he was moving backwards, flinging out with his other arm, which was promptly snared. Less than five seconds later, he was on the ground, face down, and trying not to squirm. Every time he breathed, the rope seemed to tighten. 

Adam’s weight was threatening above him and he leaned down to speak into his ear. “I’m a bit rusty,” he said. “To do this right, you need to be even faster. Smoother.” Then he released the rope and Nick gasped, his hands going to his throat. He glared at Adam. 

Adam wound the rope in his hand and offered it to Nick. “One hundred times,” he said. “Then we’ll go through the motions more slowly.”

Nick gritted his teeth and took the rope. 

***~***

“Tell me about Richie,” Nick said as they ate dinner. 

Adam blinked at him. 

“I’m serious,” Nick said. “He’s the only reason you took me on. He’s the only reason I came here. This is a favor I’m doing _for_ him.”

Adam’s gaze wandered to the bed and Nick felt himself start to blush. “Not that stuff,” Nick said quickly. 

Adam smirked. “From your initial reaction, I had assumed you didn’t want to broach this subject,” he said. 

“Not your love life,” Nick said. “Richie’s personality. The kind of guy he was.”

“Loyal to a fault,” Adam said. “It got him killed.” Adam got up from the dinner table. “I’m going out for a while. Don’t wait up.”

Nick watched as Adam pulled on his coat and then went out the back door, and was gone. That hadn’t gone at all well, he thought. He hadn’t wanted to offend Adam, but obviously he’d touched a nerve. 

Nick rubbed at his face. He was tired and he was sore. Additionally, trying to speed up his take-down was giving him bruises. Adam smacked him, open handed, but still hard as if getting hit with a brick, every time Nick left even the smallest opening. He had yet to successfully get beyond the part where he pulled the rope out of his sleeve.

Nick put the leftovers away. They’d ordered in Chinese food, and Adam had gone heavy on the noodles. He finished his beer, thankful for the relaxing effect of the alcohol on his system. Then he drifted over to the photograph on the end table. He stared at it for a long time, as if it would give up some of its secrets, but it remained mute on the topic. 

Finally, Nick went to bed. He was so exhausted that he fell asleep almost instantly. He only woke once, when Adam came home and lay down on the other side. Nick could see that it was nearly three in the morning. 

***~***

 

“Do you want to try again or take a break?”

“Again,” Nick said stubbornly. He really needed the break, but he’d be damned if he was going to yield in any way to the insufferable attitude that Adam had taken with him today. He took a deep breath and ran at Adam. 

Adam kicked his legs out from beneath him and landed on top of him with a double tap to his ribs, cracking at least one, and tears sprang to Nick’s eyes. The blade of Adam’s hand was at his throat, a training stand-in for a real blade, and Nick blinked away the tears to look up and see the cold fury in Adam’s eyes. 

Fuck this, Nick thought. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked. “I don’t need this shit.” Without even thinking, Nick punched. He’d been a boxer, trained for years, and he knew that physicality like he knew his own skin. He connected with Adam’s jaw, felt a sinister victorious feeling, a gloating that he finally had done something to get past those barriers. Adam’s head snapped back and he dropped like a stone, unconscious, to the floor, eyes wide and blank. 

Nick scrambled to his feet. He nudged Adam with his foot. “Hell,” he said. This was not the way to make friends and influence people. He’d just knocked his teacher out cold. 

Nick sighed and headed for the freezer. He put two handfuls of ice into a kitchen towel and trudged it back downstairs. 

Adam was just stirring. 

“Here,” he said, and put the ice-filled towel in Adam’s hands. “This’ll help.”

Adam blinked at him, confusion evident in his eyes. “What?” he asked. “What happened?”

“I hit you,” Nick said. “Sorry.”

Adam smiled. “Good job,” he said. He put the bulk of the towel against his chin where Nick had landed the blow, flinched, and then switched it to his temple. “This is the worst headache I’ve had in a century,” he said. 

“Good job?” Nick frowned at him. “I just knocked you out.”

“About time, too,” Adam said. He closed his eyes and sank in against the icy towel. “Nick, you have to commit to learning this. You’re holding back, you don’t have that fire in the belly that you need. You’re driven, but you aren’t near enough to obsessive. I’m glad to see you’ve got _some_ passion in you.”

Nick stared at him. Passion? “I know a lot of people would argue with you about that passion thing. My problem is usually that I’m too passionate.”

Adam shook his head, then stopped. “Ow,” he said. “I don’t mean your usual hot-headedness. Or how you go battering at impenetrable walls, and bullying everyone around you. I mean _passion_ to want to do this.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Give it time,” Adam said. “Rome wasn’t built in a day, as the saying goes.” There was mirth in his eyes over that, but Nick didn’t dare even ask. He decided to throw caution to the wind and risk another, more inflammable topic. 

“I thought you were trying to punish me for bringing up Richie,” Nick said. 

“I never said I wasn’t temperamental.”

“He must have meant a lot to you.”

“He did.”

“And?”

Adam sighed. “Don’t you have a hundred rope windings to complete?”

“Only if you tell me about Richie while I do it.”

Adam considered that. “Fine. Since my head doesn’t want to be sloshed about just yet, I’m not going anywhere for a few minutes. You do pack a wallop.”

Nick grinned and retrieved the rope. 

“Richie was a street kid,” Adam said. “Growing up shuffled from family to family. He accidentally witnessed a Challenge and a Quickening and got involved in the world of Immortals.”

Nick paused in his winding. Except for the street kid stuff, that hit a little close to home. 

“If you stop, I stop,” Adam warned, and Nick continued with the rope. 

“Street kid?” Nick asked. “What century was that?”

“This one,” Adam said, and Nick startled. A muscle twitched above Nick’s eye. “Not everyone is a thousand years old, Nick,” he said. 

“Yeah. But I’m the only one I know under a hundred.” 

“Richie was twenty-two when he died. He became Immortal at eighteen. So he only got an extra four years,” Adam said mildly. “Of course, those were the years I knew him, so I tend to think they were a gift.”

Nick remembered what he’d told Amanda after coming alive again. How despondent he’d been to think he’d outlive his family, his friends. Four years. Richie had gotten only four extra years. He hadn’t outlived anyone. Dying at twenty-two was barely less tragic than eighteen. Nick thought of himself at twenty-two, how green he’d been, how untested and idealistic. He’d hardly even filled in his own skin by that age. He’d known his own mind, but not been tempered by so many other things that were just around the bend. 

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, and he was. It must have been a bitter day to realize that all that youthful potential had been cut down. Richie should have lived forever. Instead he’d gotten four more years. Nick looked down and concentrated on his winding, trying to empty his mind of the misery. Of course, he’d just seen Richie. It was hard to imagine he was gone, when Nick had a bright image of him in his mind. 

“We met through a mutual friend. Here, in this very dojo. Right over there, actually. We were sort of like two satellites revolving around this place, constantly bumping into one another. There’d be long hours waiting together at the bar, and we just seemed to have a lot of time to talk. He wasn’t a bad kid,” Adam said. 

“So not love at first sight,” Nick said. 

“Hardly. More like annoyance at first sight. But he was persistent. Then there was…ah, a certain Immortal in town who was a big mouth and a liar. Circumstances and all. Richie really started trying to talk to me. Next thing I knew, I had a soft spot for him. It just sort of spiraled from there.” Adam smiled fondly. “He had a big heart. Too big. It got him in trouble constantly.”

“What happened? In the end?”

Adam shook his head. “He died. Got mixed up in something too big for him and he led with his heart.”

“I’ve still got eighty-six to go,” Nick said. “There’s got to be more to tell than that.”

“That’s all I’ve got to say. How about you tell me why you’re still angry with Amanda.”

Nick flushed, his anger rising just as fast as it ever did. “Like hell!”

Adam got to his feet, keeping the bag of ice against his head. “I’m going to lie down. I trust you can keep yourself occupied for the remainder of the day.”

Nick watched him go and lost count of how many rope windings he had left to complete. 

***~***

Nick took the afternoon off. His hands ached and his body hurt and even though the ribs and bruises had healed, he still felt them, like tight stretches across and under his skin. 

He toured the neighborhood, getting a feel for the side streets, and he walked around the park, looking at the local residents. Then he went grocery shopping. Adam might live off fast food, but Nick surely couldn’t. 

He stopped off at a book store. There weren’t any books there on Hojojutsu, and a clerk looked it up on his computer, telling him that there were books, just not translated, and not readily available. Nick bought some magazines instead. 

The apartment television only picked up three channels and Adam hogged the internet line. He’d need something to occupy his down time when he wasn’t getting the crap kicked out of him.

Nick returned to the third floor apartment and found Adam was sleeping on the bed, spread out across both sides, taking up all the space. Adam opened his eyes long enough to tell who’d caused the Immortal signature and then shut them again. Nick put the groceries away as quietly as he could and then started to make dinner. Nothing fancy, just tuna noodle casserole, although never as good as his mother had made it. 

When it was ready, he called out, “Adam, dinner if you want some.” At least he’d been smart enough not to try to sneak up on another Immortal while he was sleeping. 

Adam yawned and got out of bed, his hair sticking straight up on the side he’d been sleeping on. It made him look very young and for the first time Nick wondered exactly how old he’d been when he had first died. Much younger than he appeared when he was more animated, that was for sure.

“You can cook,” Adam said. 

“A few things. Enough for a work week, and pancakes in the morning. After that, I just repeat the dishes.”

“I suppose if you’re going to stay longer than a week, I’ll have to pitch in and do some cooking, too.” Adam piled food on his plate and dug in. “This is really good.”

“Thanks.” Nick pointed to his own chin. “How’s the…uh….”

“Good as new,” Adam said. He didn’t even have a bruise. “And the headache is gone.” 

Nick grunted, and they settled down into a companionable, if silent, dinner. 

***~***

The next morning Nick was awake long before Adam. He left him snoozing in the bed and went downstairs to the dojo area. Nick retrieved the rope and then made himself comfortable in the center area of the mat. 

“One hundred,” he said out loud, and then started to let his hands do the work for him.

The dojo was quiet, but occasionally there were creaks, as the building warmed or cooled, settling on its bones as all buildings do. He could hear the street traffic, the honking of impatient vehicles, and voices in conversation as they passed by the window. The sunlight streamed in through the windows and splashed on the floor; he could sense the heat there, from the sun warming the wood. The mat beneath his legs was still cool and a bit tacky. His feet were cold, and Nick wished he’d thought to wear socks. He could hear some faint stirring upstairs and realized that Adam must be awake. 

He was nearly done with the windings, having a dozen left to do, when Adam quietly approached from the stairwell door. He stood behind Nick until he finished the last winding. Nick turned around. 

Adam was smiling, like he knew something, like he was pleased. 

“What?” Nick asked, and for once it was genuine curiosity without the tinge of rebellion. 

Adam dropped into a crouch so that they were eye-level. “After about the first two hundred of those, you had it down perfectly. Now, you’re able to meditate. Feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Meditate?” Nick asked. 

“Yes. Calm your mind. Find your strengths and flaws. Bring yourself into harmony with your body.”

Nick smiled. That had been quite the little rope trick, after all. “Yeah,” he said. “It did feel good.”

“Excellent. And now you’re ready to learn. Finally.”

Nick realized it was true. 

***~***

Two weeks had passed and everything had settled into a schedule. 

Nick woke early, meditating while winding the rope. He had to admit that he had _needed_ something to do with his hands. He had learned patience as a cop, but he’d never really been able to still his mind or his body other than through sheer willpower. The rope winding brought him into alignment of body and mind, took away all that anxious energy that he found himself to have in too much abundance every morning when he woke. 

Then, Adam would come down, and they would train. Minutia of the movement would be studied. Sparring on some days. 

Adam refused to do any sword work with him, claiming a different reason or excuse each time, but Nick had accepted that. As soon as he’d learned sufficiently from Adam all the Hojojutsu that he could, then he supposed it would be time to finally find a teacher for the sword work. Perhaps even return to Moana. Not that Nick expected to leave Adam any time soon. He was still perfecting the diamond rope tie, which was the move they practiced the most frequently, but even then, there were others to learn and perfect. As Adam had said, it was the study of a lifetime. Nick felt no compunction to move on. 

Afternoons and evenings were free time. 

Nick sometimes went for a jog. Every other day or so he went grocery shopping. He’d long ago run through his staple of foods. Tuna Noodle Casserole. Lasagna. Spaghetti and meatballs. Steak and green salad. Pork chops and sauerkraut. Now he was shopping for Adam, who was a brilliant cook. 

Often Adam would leave him a shopping list with things on it that Nick hadn’t even considered ever trying to turn into something edible on his own, only foods that had been found at high end restaurants. Red lentils. Sea scallops. Pine nuts. Edamame. What the hell was that? Elephant garlic. Good grief. Nick hated having to ask at the store for assistance in finding these ridiculous foods, but oh, did he love eating dinner. 

Then, Nick would usually read while Adam crouched over his laptop. Some evenings, they’d both go out. 

Nick never went with Adam to the bar he frequented. Adam had invited him, but Nick had learned that Dawson owned and operated it and Nick had yet to get the distaste out of his mouth where Dawson was concerned. The asshole had _lied_ to him, with a straight face and fake emotions, and given him Amanda’s sword and said ‘sorry’ and ‘no happy endings’. Nick figured that he’d punch the guy’s lights out the next time he saw him, and Joe wasn’t Immortal, so he probably shouldn’t do that. To avoid it, he’d avoid Dawson. 

Nick did not like the idea of Watchers. He liked them even less now that he was an Immortal. He didn’t think of them as a necessary evil. He thought of them as voyeurs, and dangerous ones. That they were present when people—mortals and Immortals—committed crimes and hurt people and all they did was record what had happened made Nick’s blood boil. 

Lately, though, Nick was enjoying staying in. He supposed it was the meditation in the mornings, and the thoroughly tiring workouts each day, but really what he enjoyed most were the nights that Adam did leave, and he had space to himself. 

***~***

“I’m going out,” Adam said as Nick did the dishes. They’d agreed that whoever cooked didn’t do dishes. Nick ended up doing more dishes than cooking, but that was because he only wanted tuna noodle casserole once a week. “You’re welcome to come.”

“You’re going to that bar?” Nick asked.

“Yes.”

“No thanks.”

“Later,” said Adam, and he left by way of the stairwell. 

Nick finished up the dishes and checked the newspaper. There was a basketball game on, and it was being shown on one of the three channels that they picked up. He retrieved a beer from the fridge and settled in to enjoy. 

The game went late and Adam still hadn’t returned, so Nick made himself comfortable in the bed, and went to sleep. 

He woke at 3 am and rolled over. The other side of the bed was empty. That was strange, but the bar would be closed by now, so Nick didn’t even know who he could call. 

He fell asleep again, but it was uneasy. 

***~***

In the morning, Adam still hadn’t returned. Nick went down to the dojo space and wrapped the rope one hundred times, sinking into a now familiar meditation. His anxiety over Adam’s whereabouts kept him from really being able to relax, though, and he jumped at every little noise. 

As he wound the rope, he formulated a plan. 

If Adam didn’t return sometime soon, Nick would begin to search. Seacouver was a big city. He couldn’t just go around hoping to catch a whiff of Immortal Presence. Assuming Adam was alive. It was highly probable that Adam had been Challenged, and he might have lost. Nick would have to check the morgue, the hospital, and the weather. 

Or. He could go and talk with Dawson. 

Nick gritted his teeth and concentrated on counting down on the rope windings.

He had just finished the last one and was debating on how best to find Dawson before the bar opened when there was a knock on the door. Nick looked up, eyes narrowed. Not an Immortal, since there was no signature. 

He went to the door. “We’re closed,” he said. 

The man was small and wiry, with a shaved head and glasses. He waved an envelope on the other side of the glass and Nick scowled at him, but opened the door. 

“This is for MacLeod,” he said, shoving the envelope forward.

“There’s no MacLeod here,” Nick replied, not taking the envelope.

“Then you’d better find him quick,” the guy said, and dropped the envelope at Nick’s feet and turned. He sauntered away, concerned. 

Nick picked up the envelope and opened it, sliding out the one piece of paper. Glancing at it, he looked up for the guy and then ran after him, but he was gone, vanished without a trace. 

He looked back down at the paper, which was a really poorly printed photo, smeared at the edges and blurry. Of an unconscious Adam. “MACLEOD. LET’S MAKE A DEAL” was printed in black marker, the large letters overlapping most of the photo. 

Nick ran inside to get his coat, gun, and find the address of the bar that Dawson owned. 

***~***

Nick’s first inclination was to storm the bar, push Dawson up against a wall, threaten, and then hit him, until he gave up the information. It had usually worked well in the past, but if three weeks of training with Adam had taught him anything, it was to try diplomacy first, then beat the crap out of everyone if necessary. 

Nick decided to ask nicely, then implement Plan B. 

It was still early when he found the bar. The door was unlocked and Nick let himself in. The bar itself was empty, but he could see a light was on in the back, where he guessed there would be office space. Moving silently, he went back there. 

Dawson was just settling down in front of his computer with a coffee, and Nick watched him for a moment. Dawson was getting a little long in the tooth. His joints cracked like mini-firecrackers as he stiffly maneuvered himself down into the chair in front of the computer. 

“Let’s see the reports for this morning,” he muttered to himself as he hit the power button and then sipped his coffee, eyes on the screen, waiting for it to light up. 

“Yes, let’s,” Nick said, coming out of the corridor. 

“Nick!” Dawson said, startled. 

“Adam’s missing,” Nick said, not bothering to make pleasantries. He was only here for information. He smacked the envelope containing the photo down on the desk. “Someone wants to deal with a guy named MacLeod. Who is he? What’s he got to do with Adam?”

“They’re friends. And MacLeod’s the one that owns the dojo and loft you’ve been staying at,” Dawson said as he pulled the envelope to him and slid the photo out of it. He closed his eyes and made a distressed sound. “MacLeod’s out of town. And out of touch.”

“Bullshit. You know where he is.” Nick had wondered about the dojo space, but for once he’d held his curiosity in check. He was regretting that now. 

“Not exactly,” Joe said. “He’s not easy to follow when he goes off the beaten path, if you know what I mean.”

“Fuck,” Nick said. “You guys lost him.”

“Essentially. He does that sometimes. Wants some alone time.” 

“Which means he can’t be of any help,” Nick said. 

“Yeah.” Joe rubbed at his beard and considered the photo. “How long has Adam been gone?”

“Since last night. He said he was coming down here. Did he ever make it?”

Joe shook his head. “I haven’t seen him for days.” His attention went to the computer. “Program’s running. Let me take a look at the reports.”

“Not going to give me that line of bullshit about watching and not interfering?” Nick asked nastily. He didn’t want Joe to stop cooperating, but hell, it rankled Nick something fierce. People _died_ and these assholes stood there and took photos and called ambulances after the fact. 

“Adam’s my friend,” Joe shot back. His fingers flew across the keyboard. Suddenly his face drained of color. “Shit.”

Nick rounded the desk to stare at the computer screen. A man’s face, unknown to him, was in the corner and a long narrative was scrolled on the other side. It detailed how Adam had been shot from a distance and stuffed into the trunk of a car. It also had the address where Adam had been dumped off and, presumably, where he was still being held. For once, Nick was glad there’d been a Watcher hanging around in the shadows.

“Nicco Jardis-Keene.”

“Never heard of him.”

Joe tapped a few keys and more information came up on the screen. “First death at the age of thirty. Four hundred years old.”

“What’s he got against MacLeod?” Nick asked. 

Joe hit more keys. “Long standing feud. Jardis-Keene was running illegal booze back in the day and MacLeod put a stop to his enterprises. It cost him his fortune and it got his best friend killed by a rival bootlegger.”

“Sounds like a real winner.”

“So far, he has been.” Joe hit a key and another screen came up. “He’s good with a sword. Really good. MacLeod’s probably better, but—“

“Any given Sunday,” Nick added. 

“Yeah,” Joe agreed. “No outcome is fore ordained. In any case, he’d cut you down like a hot knife through butter.”

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve got to try,” Nick said. “What’s my other choice? Leave Adam? Eventually Jardis-Keene would realize MacLeod wasn’t going to show.”

“You haven’t even trained for a year,” Dawson said, his voice thick. “And you haven’t even _been_ training lately. Not sword-work. Do you even have your sword on you now?”

“It’s in the car,” Nick said. So he wasn’t in this guy’s league. Yet. And he hated that thought. He despised having to cart a sword around everywhere he went, and the thought that he would have to defend himself by beheading someone pleased him even less. But he also hated the thought that because he wasn’t skilled enough that Adam might die because of it. “Who else is in town that can take him?”

Joe laughed, but it was a hard and bitter sound. “No one is going to assist you in taking on Jardis-Keene,” he said. “The only altruistic Immortal you’re gonna ever meet is MacLeod.”

“So we’re just going to leave Adam?” Nick asked, and the anger in him flared. He should have come in here and just punched Dawson in the head. “You’re a real piece of work, Dawson.”

Dawson pulled open the top drawer to his right. “Hardly.” He pulled out a heavy silver-plated semi-automatic and then a magazine clip that he pushed up into it. “This won’t be pretty. I can shoot him, but it won’t keep him down long.” Joe shook his head. “You’d better not come. I can sneak up on him, but you’ll be a dead giveaway. He’ll sense you and I’ll lose the element of surprise.”

Nick’s attention was riveted to the semi-auto. It was true he would be useless in a sword fight against Jardis-Keene, but what if he didn’t try to defeat him in a Challenge? What if there was another way? He grinned at Dawson, showing teeth. “I’ve got a better idea,” he said. 

***~***

“This is a lousy idea,” Dawson said as they parked behind the building. 

“What other choice do we have?” Nick asked. He rechecked his weapons and eyeballed the distance to the building. “They shouldn’t be able to see us from here. You’re sure you can get in there without being detected?”

Dawson just gave him a look that made Nick want to start punching him again. Nick took a deep breath. He needed the guy. He could hit him later. 

As plans went, it was deceptively simple. Nick would give a frontal assault while Dawson snuck in the back and tried to locate Adam. Nick had no plans of fighting anyone, only in causing enough distraction to allow Dawson to do his job, and then Nick would get out of there. 

Nick walked to the front door. He had his gun in his hand, safety off. He felt a rush enter his head and go fleeing down his spine and he gritted his teeth. He was getting used to the sensation, but he didn’t like it. 

“MacLeod,” said a voice from inside. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Nick said as he entered, aiming at the figure in the center of the space. It was a large warehouse structure with big rooms and tall columns spaced out in long rows. There was only Jardis-Keene in the space. If he had any lackeys around, they were elsewhere. Nick hoped Dawson could handle himself. “Not MacLeod.”

The unfamiliar Immortal in front of him laughed. “It’s the little fledgling!” he said with obvious delight. “Come in MacLeod’s stead. I don’t have a quarrel with you. You haven’t even taken your first head yet, have you?”

“MacLeod’s out of town, and you kidnapped somebody I want back.” Nick held his gun with a steady aim. 

“Hmmm,” said Jardis-Keene. He had intense, dark eyes set in a well-tanned face. His heavy features rearranged into a condescending frown. He looked completely unconcerned that Nick was pointing a loaded firearm at him. “That won’t do,” he said. “MacLeod got a friend of mine killed, so I owe him one. I’d hoped to do it in front of him, but it should make him miserable enough to hear word of it.” His eyes lit up. “You can tell him!” 

“Like hell I will,” Nick said. He thumbed on the safety and shoved it into the shoulder holster even as he ran forward. Jardis-Keene was reaching for his sword, Nick could see his hand disappear into the folds of his long trench coat, but Nick had only been a few yards away and he didn’t have enough time. Nick was on him before that, and he’d focused on the remaining hand Jardis-Keene had left available. Nick already had the bundle of rope in his hand, retrieved quickly from his sleeve, and he hit Jardis-Keene with the weight of his body, momentarily confusing him, even as he flowed to the side. He had the man’s wrist in the slip and then Nick’s muscle memory took over

 _This_ was what he’d practiced for three weeks straight. _This_ was the move that Richie had sent him to learn. 

Nick couldn’t beat Jardis-Keene. Not in hand-to-hand combat, Nick had a mean right hook, but most Immortals knew multiple martial arts like it was instinct, not learned. Not in sword work. Nick barely knew how to hold the thing properly yet. But _this_ one move, Nick knew. Knew in his muscles, in his hands and fingers, and in his head where he catalogued movement already accomplished rather than trying to instigate it. 

Nick had one trick up his sleeve and he used it. 

Jardis-Keene went down. He was trussed up in the diamond rope tie, and Nick held the end of the rope. 

Jardis-Keene was spitting fury at him. Nick calmly pulled up on the rope and Jardis-Keene made a high-pitched wail of pain and distress. Nick eased up. 

“Just shut up,” Nick said. He hauled Jardis-Keene to his feet. “Where’s Adam?”

“In the back.”

“Show me.”

Carefully, Jardis-Keene got to his feet, unable to use his arms, and wary of Nick pulling and cutting off his air as the rope stretched taut around his throat, ready to crush his trachea if enough force were applied. He slowly minced his steps toward the back area. 

Nick kept an eye on him, trusting the rope, but not trusting Jardis-Keene. 

There was a short corridor and then a small room. Dawson was in it, bent over an unmoving Adam. In the corner was the small, bald henchman, unconscious and drooling on himself. 

Dawson caught Nick’s look. “What? He’s not dead, if that’s what you’re thinking.” He shook his cane. “Us old men are mean.”

Nick almost smiled. But then he refocused on Adam. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Damned if I know,” Joe said. “I’ve been in here for the last five minutes trying to figure it out.”

Nick gave a sudden yank on the end of his rope and Jardis-Keene squawked like an angry chicken. “What’d you do?” 

“In the heart,” Jardis-Keene gasped. “Knife.”

“Dawson,” Nick said. And Dawson moved awkwardly until he could yank up Adam’s shirt. The stubby hilt projecting out of Adam’s chest just looked wrong, and Dawson grimaced as he gave it a tug and it slid out with a rasping sound. It must have been snugged up against bone. 

Dawson stepped back to give Adam room, and in a moment, that telltale whooshing sound filled Nick’s head and Adam coughed, spasming, and doubling over. Once he caught his breath, he glared with a poisoned, flint-arrowed look at Jardis-Keene. 

“Seems there’s been a turn of events in my absence,” Adam said. His attention flicked over Nick’s handiwork with the rope. “Nicely done,” he said. 

“Now what?” Nick asked. 

Adam climbed to his feet and stumbled back against the wall. “First we find my sword.”

“Sword, now,” Nick demanded, giving a sudden tug at the rope. 

Jardis-Keene yelped, his face turning red and sweaty. “In the corner. In the trash can.”

Adam turned and rummaged amongst the construction junk and came away with his sword. He looked at it for a moment and flicked it left and right, testing. 

“Now what?” Nick asked. His answer for everything had once been to turn these creeps over to the police, but Amanda had always been correct about this. Mortal justice didn’t work with Immortals. They faked their deaths, they served their sentences, a puff of time against their long lives, and then went back out amongst the gentle sheep to begin their rampage and slaughter again. 

Adam shook out his arms and then turned a grim look on Jardis-Keene. “Now we see who wins.”

Dawson gasped and looked furious. “Hell, Adam! You were dead for nearly a full day!”

Adam turned a cold eye to Dawson. “And the next time he shoots me with a sniper rifle and then stuffs me into a trunk? The next time when I haven’t any friends nearby? No, Joe. If running would do any good, you know I’d vanish. But nasty little children should be tucked into bed. We’ll settle this now.”

“Adam--” Dawson pleaded, but Nick could see that Adam’s sole focus was on Jardis-Keene. 

“There’s a larger space here, correct, Nick?”

“Through the door and down the hallway,” Nick confirmed. He had a grip on the rope and really didn’t like what was coming next. Amanda had done it—and Nick had gotten dragged into it even when he’d thought he was mortal. Now this was his world. There weren’t a lot of options open. Let the creep go, and he’d still be gunning for MacLeod and trying to take out his friends along the way as collateral damage. Or take care of the creep now. Nick hoped Adam was good enough. 

“Bring him along,” Adam said, and strode away, steps sure. 

Nick dragged Jardis-Keene back to the open space they’d first met in and stopped. He kept his grip firm on the rope. 

Adam rolled his shoulders and then gave a warm-up swing of his sword. He nodded at Nick. “Let him go.”

It took Nick a moment to respond. He gritted his teeth and undid the tie, quickly winding the rope and putting it back up his sleeve. If things went badly, he wouldn’t have the element of surprise again, but he still knew how to truss the bad guy up. Dawson was by the door, leaning on his cane, still holding his gun and looking unhappy. 

Jardis-Keene staggered forward, rubbing at his wrists and his neck, where Nick could see the imprint of the rope. He could even see the twist of the rope impressed into the man’s flesh. He hoped it had hurt a lot. Jardis-Keene brought his own sword out. “I didn’t realize you were so eager to die,” he said to Adam. 

Adam raised an eyebrow. “There can be only one,” he said mildly, and then he swung his sword. 

The entire fight lasted less than a minute. Having seen Amanda fight, Nick knew competence when he saw it, and Adam was very good. Jardis-Keene went down to his knees and Adam made the killing stroke. 

Then the Quickening hit. Nick could feel the pressure building in his ears, in his head. A thick white mist came off of Jardis-Keene’s body and hung in the air, then dove at Adam, attacking him, driving itself into him. All around him, Nick saw explosions. The ground caught fire in elaborate swoops of symbols, and Nick blinked. The crossing lines looked like the diamond rope tie as seen from the back-- He blinked again and more lines of fire had sprung into existence, blotting out the ground, and giving rise to thick, dark smoke. 

Nick sprung forward, finding Adam at the center of the conflagration. He was in a heap on the ground, his sword to the side, flung away. 

“Adam!” he called, kneeling. 

Adam pushed himself up, clearly exhausted, his skin tone gone ashen-grey. “Let’s get out of here,” he said. 

Nick nodded and helped him out to the car. Dawson was already there, waiting. 

 

***~***

“I wanted to thank you.”

Adam looked up from the fridge where he was retrieving another beer. “For what? If anything, I owe you and Joe thanks, for coming after me.”

“For teaching me,” Nick said. “You certainly didn’t have to, and it was obvious you didn’t really want to.”

Adam popped the cap off his bottle and took a swig. “It appears it was mutually beneficial. Your knowledge of the diamond rope tie was singularly useful.”

Nick lifted the lid of the pizza box and pulled out his third slice for the night. Cooking had been unceremoniously dumped and they were back to ordering delivery. “Yeah, funny how that worked out.” Nick took a bite of pizza and chewed, thinking it over carefully. “In the dream, Richie said he was asking me for a _favor_.” Nick looked over at Adam, who had raised an eyebrow and was patiently waiting. “Appears that favor was to rescue you. With an obscure rope trick that only you could teach me.”

“Interesting theory,” Adam said. He flopped down on the couch and rested his head backwards. 

“Isn’t it, though,” Nick said, staring hard at Adam. It couldn’t be true. Guardian Angels didn’t exist. Except, once upon a time, Nick thought Immortals didn’t exist either. 

“Have you decided where you will go?” Adam asked. “Tomorrow, you’re getting kicked out, remember.”

“I remember,” Nick said. Adam was hitting the road for destinations undisclosed and Nick was losing his teacher. But, then again, he’d already learned the one thing he’d come here for, and it had already paid dividends. “I think I’ll head over to see Moana, Amanda’s friend. See if she’s still willing to teach me some sword work, maybe more than just one month’s worth.”

Adam sat up straighter. “Moana? Moana Hale?”

“Is that her last name? Hale?” Nick asked, still unsure. He hoped Moana and Adam weren’t somehow lifelong enemies holding Immortal grudges. “She never told me.”

Adam moved his arms out wide. “Built like the most beautiful center midfielder you’ve ever imagined?”

Nick nodded, less worried now. Moana had been that, and more. 

Adam whistled. “Amanda pulled in more than one favor for you. She cashed in all her chips.”

“What do you mean?” Nick frowned. 

“You don’t even realize,” Adam said. “Moana Hale is really _old_. Older than Amanda, I think. Also taught by Rebecca, Amanda’s own teacher. They’re like sisters, in a way. But competitive sisters. And they keep score. If Amanda asked Moana for a favor, to teach you….” Adam let the implication hang in the air, giving Nick time to get his head around it. 

“I owe Amanda a thank you, don’t I?” Nick said. 

“At the very least,” Adam said. 

“Hunh,” Nick said. He licked the last of the tomato sauce and oil off his fingers. “Odd how that worked out.”

Adam gulped down some more beer. “Odd?”

“Favors. Amanda pulled one in for me. Richie pulled one in for you.”

“Me?” Adam repeated, and for once, Nick saw a slightly dizzy look in his eye. 

“Absolutely,” Nick said. “He sure as hell doesn’t care if my head stays attached or not, but he’s willing to move people across several state lines for you.”

“Mind yourself,” Adam said warningly, suddenly strung tight.

Nick threw him a look, knowing he was right and finally, having something to be smug about. Then he got himself another beer. 

***~***

_Epilogue_

 

Methos was hiking. 

He looked around him and the landscape was familiar, but it was also long, long gone. Replaced by buildings and turned into a city. He was hiking in the distant past. 

“Which means I’m dreaming,” Methos said out loud, even as he kept hiking. He was content. As dreams went, it was very pleasant. Neither hot nor cold, not too sunny nor too cloudy. There were no mosquitoes or flies. He wasn’t hungry or thirsty. The scenery was beautiful, and he was enjoying seeing it again.

Up ahead there was a boulder by the side of the road and a figure sitting on top of it, waiting. 

Methos walked slowly up to it and stopped. 

“Hey,” Richie said, and he jumped down off his perch. “Mind if I walk with you for a bit?”

“You sent Nick,” Methos said. He hadn’t been really sure before but now…this dream. 

Richie shrugged. “He needed to be sent,” he said. “You know I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“I know.” Methos smiled. “I won’t remember this in the morning, will I?”

“You never do,” Richie answered. 

“Then we’d better walk together while we can,” Methos said. He started walking again and Richie fell into step next to him. “I’ve missed you,” he added. 

“Yeah,” Richie said, and he moved a little closer as they walked, their strides in sync. “I missed you, too.”


End file.
